Hogwarts America
by I Stalk Snape on Weekends
Summary: What if Hogwarts was based in America? What would Harry and his friends, or even Snape be like if they were American? God help us all if they were….
1. Monday Morning in Prison

Disclaimer: Don't own a thing…. I'm not getting a profit or anything. 

A/N: This was written in pure insanity… *grins maliciously* And I have no idea what it's going to be about. 

What if Hogwarts was based in America? What would Harry and his friends, or even Snape be like if they were American? God help us all if they were….

**Setting**: America; in a town everybody wishes to leave

**Year**: Fifth Year: AKA 10th grade

**Plot**: For Harry to get through the day sane…. 

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Chapter One: Monday Morning in Prison

Harry Potter was no ordinary boy. For one thing, he didn't care about what people thought of him. He never bothered to brush his hair, for he thought it was completely pointless to keep buying combs and brushes that would only break in the crop of mess they called hair. So instead of grooming himself, he dyed it blue. He liked it much better then the pitch black hair he used to have. His friends digged his new style too, and suggested that he should go with some piercing… so he did.

For another thing, Harry hated school. Okay, so that was considered normal, but having serious meetings with his Phoenix Bang Gang on ways to get around the magical barrier and burning the school down was considered less then normal fifteen-year-old behavior. 

Also, Harry James Potter was a wizard. He attended Hogwarts High School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and he owned a wand. But nobody was supposed to know this. If anybody found out magic was real in America, the President would send out an order and have their school nuclear bombed, just because it was something to do. Harry liked being a wizard for only one reason…. He could suspend his non-magical cousin Dudley by his underwear on the antenna for the TV without even touching him. Yes, that was why Harry liked being a wizard. 

Harry swore as his alarm clock blared in his ear at seven-thirty in the morning. Without opening his eyes, he grabbed the sleep-Nazi and threw it at the wall, finally shutting it up as it broke into small pieces. It was Monday, and it was time for school. Harry swore again, threw his Eagles bedspread to the floor, and rolled out of bed. 

"Potter, are you out of bed yet?" He heard his uncle yell from downstairs. 

"Shut up," Harry muttered, scratching himself as he trudged into the bathroom. After going to the bathroom and brushing his teeth, making sure to be cautious of his new tongue ring, he stopped to examine himself in the cracked mirror. His hair was a mess, and flying everywhere, so he grabbed the axel wax and applied it to the blue rat's nest and started spiking. His eyebrow was pierced, his tongue was pierced, and the sides of his mouth he even got done. He had his best friend Hermione pierce him after she had done her own eyebrow herself. There - he was done. His hair was perfectly spiked, and he resembled a punk. Harry was happy.

He went back to his room and threw on his Sex Pistols shirt and black baggy pants with the neon green cords. 

"Harry Potter, if you are late again, I swear I'll beat you so hard…"

"Yadda, yadda," Harry muttered, giving the doorway the finger. "If you don't shut up, man, I'll beat you myself." Harry was used to being threatened to be beaten by his uncle, but the truth was they were afraid to put a hand on the boy. After he and his gang were practicing breaking barriers and set the shed on fire, they were afraid he might get ideas if they set a finger on the boy wizard. So Harry dismissed the warning, grabbed his book bag, and made his way slowly down the stairs. 

"What are you doing up so early, Vernon?" Harry demanded, as he watch his uncle position his tie while examining himself in the reflection of the microwave.

"I told you last night I had a job interview! Now get out of the house, before your stupid principle sends another of those filthy owls!"

Harry smirked. Vernon had been laid off five times, and he was sure his new job, if he even got it, would be the sixth. The way jobs were laying off people those days, Harry was sure Vernon would never keep another job again.

Skipping breakfast, Harry dashed out of the house, hopped on his bike, and raced his way down the streets to his school. Fifteen minutes later, he locked his bike on the bike rack and found his best friends, Ron, Hermione, Dean, and Seamus, hanging out on the front yard; their usual meeting spot. Dean and Seamus were smoking, Ron was trying to write fast enough to get all the answers to his Potions homework from Hermione, and Hermione was only smoothing out her tight Good Charlotte shirt, laughing at Ron. 

"Good, God, Ron," Hermione laughed, as Ron hurried to do the work. "I swear if you don't start doing your homework on your own, you'll wind up working at the McDonalds or something! Better start practicing your interview speech now! Would you like fries with that?"

"Shut up, Hermione," Ron growled. "Like I don't have more important things to do then Snape's Potions homework!" 

"If you lay off the weed, then maybe…," Harry said as he stopped at the group. 

"Dude - if you don't shut up -" 

Dean, Seamus, and Hermione laughed. 

"Hey, Harry," Dean nodded, taking a puff from his cigarette. 

"What's up?" Seamus greeted. 

Harry shook his head. "Nothing but the usual. Vernon's going out for another job again… at the car dealership, I think."

"Yeah, right. Fat Bastard couldn't even get a job at Burger King if they were hiring," Seamus said, stomping out his cigarette. "He'd eat everything."

"Amen," Hermione agreed. 

Harry shrugged. "All I want to do is go home! I hate this school! You guys ready?"

Seamus and Dean grinned, and Ron stopped copying Hermione's homework and stood. They took out their wands and pointed to the school. 

"Excario!" The shouted together. A stream of bright red burst from their wands and hit the school. It was their daily routine to try to burn the school down. However, Principle Dumbledore had armed the school well, and it kept standing. Harry grunted.

"Well, that's that," he said, putting his wand back in his pocket. "D*mn it. I didn't even bother to do my History paper either."

Hermione snorted. "I told you all this crap of burning down the school was useless. Should have done your homework."

"Somebody's going to murder you someday, Mya," Dean grumbled, pulling his pants up, just to have them sag back down again. 

"And why's that?" Mya grinned. 

"Your so d*mn annoying!" 

Mya laughed just as the bell rang. 

The boys trudged grumpily up the stairs and into the building. 

Another day of prison had started… 

A/N: Hmm…. Wait until you see the teachers! 


	2. Spitballs and Camoflage

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Nadda. Nothing.

A/N: Sorry for getting this chapter up so late. So busy Stalking the Master I had so little time! 

Thanks to all of my reviewers. I had the question, "Who the heck is Mya?" asked a lot. Mya is Hermione's nickname. Yeah. 

Chapter Two: Spitballs and Camoflage 

"Open, you damn, nasty piece of idiotic trash!" Hermione yelled, furiously kicking at her jammed locker. "Or I'll melt your cheap ass and mold it into a gift for my mother!"

"Dude, you used that threat last week," Ron said, quickly getting his own locker open, only to have a mound of trash to fall at his feet. "Damn," he muttered. "I was wondering where that mofo went -" he bent down and retrieved a crumpled piece of mostly blank paper with only half a heading -

_Ron Weasely Transfiguration Term Paper_

"Due three weeks ago…" he ran a hand over his shaven head. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Make your dumb ass usefull and get my locker open."

Ron shook his head. "I thought you were a witch."

"I thought you were on rehab!"

"Both were lies then," Ron muttered. 

He moved Hermione out of the way and shoved his knee to the metal door. Then with his left hand entered in Hermione's combination. After the last diget, he brought his knee down, kicked, then swifty pulled the latch up and opened.

"No sweat," he said. 

"Fine, whatever," Hermione said lightly. She took her books she needed for the morning and shoved them into her blue Jansport bag.

"We best get our asses to Mr. Snape's room or else -"

Ron snorted. "Or else what? What is Snape's drunken, pale ass going to do? He won't give us detention… it'll keep him longer from his six-packs…"

Hermione sucked her teeth. "Last time he threatened to nail you to his drive-way -"

"And run me over with a flock of pink elephants," Ron finished. "Yeah, I remember that one. Shame Snape don't."

Hermione chuckled. "Still. Patty borrowed my YM magazine over the weekend. The one with sexy Elijah Wood on the cover. I want it back."

Ron groaned. 'Tell me when they get J-Lo up on that cover, then we'll talk."

They hurried to their first block class, and as they suspected, Snape was sitting behind his messy desk, and he was rubbing his blood-shot eyes… he didn't even see his students sneak in and grab their seats in the back of the room with Harry.

Mr. Severus Snape looked to be his usual Monday mess. Heavy bags hung under his red eyes and his elbow length black hair he left uncombed and unwashed. His black clothing were completely wrinkled, and Ron noticed it was backwards. A smell of warm alcohol lingered in the air, as if a stash of Budwiser were stored opened under Snape's desk. After Snape finished rubbing his eyes, he ran a hand over his unshaven face stubble and staggered to his feet.

Leaning his hands heavily on the desk, he tried to steady his eyes over the class. "Afternoon," he grunted. The class snorted. "So- ah - homework. Did -ah- you have any homework?"

The whole class stopped in the middle of pulling out their half-finished 100 word essay on the Beauty of Frogs out of their bags, and sat straight. 

"No, sir," they said.

"Good," he grunted again. "So -ah- get out your books and geter page -uh- shit. Granger, what chapter are we on?"

Hermione smirked, then carefully hid her text book under the chair. "We don't have books in this class, Mr. Snape."

"What?" Snape blinked. "Oh, right." The class chuckled, and Harry gave Hermione a high-five and whispered, "Rock on!"

"Then - get out your cauldrons and - and read pages 243 through 612. Tell me when you're finished." he lowered himself sorely into his swivel chair, just when the door burst opened.

Draco Malfoy entered timidly into the room, rolling his book-bag behind him. Ron, Harry, and rest of the guys prepared their spit ball launchers and started shreading paper.

"S-s-sorry, M-mister Snape," he said in his usual stutter. "M-my mo-m-mother in-in-ins-insisted on ironing m-my briefs."

He was then nailed in the face by three large spit balls. 

Snape belched. "Your mom irons your underwear?"

Draco slowly nodded. Snape shook his head. "All right. Could have happened to anyone. Next time you'll serve a detention. Now take your seat."

Draco smiled nervously, pushed his thick, taped glasses back up his nose, and took his seat in the front row.

He was hit with twenty more spit balls. Draco ignored it, and took off his worn-out camoflage jacket and hung it on the back of his chair.

Sixteen more spit balls.

"You guys are so cruel to that dweeb," Hermione chuckled, flipping through her newly returned YM magazine. 

"I don't define it as cruel," Harry said, placing a new spit ball in his empty pen. "More like service for the week."

Hermione blinked. "You're theories are wacked."

Ron shrugged. "I call it service."

Snape gave another loud belch from the front of the room, then went back to rubbing his eyes.

Ron sniffed.

"I forgot," Hermione mumbled. "I have a guidance meeting today."

"I have a peer mediation meeting today at noon," Dean Thomas said, turning around and stadling his chair.

"For slamming Goyle's head into the water fountain?" Harry chuckled, then adjusted his tongue ring.

Dean smirked and nodded. "They think we could someday be 'well aquainted friends or some shit like that."

"They are actually allowing you two to enter the same room together?" Hermione said. "Stupid ass school board."

"Word."

"Why do you have a GC meeting today, Mya?" Harry asked Hermione.

Hermione shrugged. "Something to do with preparing myself for college or whatever. Mr. Black didn't really say," she frowned. "He was in too big of a hurry. I don't think he likes it anywhere outside his office though."

Ron snorted. "That man's a paranoid pus! What the hell…"

"Give him a break," Hermione said. "He just got out of prison a couple years ago… what do you expect?"

"And he's my god-father," Harry snapped. "So lay off."

"If he wasn't so crazy, he would have won that court order for you to live with im."

"I said back off!" Harry growled loudly. 

"No - no whispering!" Snape said, pointing somewhere to the left. "Lower your lips!" 

"Gee, sorry, man," Ron said, holding out his scared arms. 

Harry shook his head. "Whatever."

"Dude, let's play a game," Ron suggested, changing the subject. "If you hit the back of Draco's head it's twenty points - on his back and it sticks, then that's ten - a hundred points if you get it into his jacket pocket."

Harry grinned. "You're on!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You two are lame."

Ron sucked his teeth. "And you're dead ass boring!"

"No, I mean if you are going to play such a childish game, the least you could do is raise the stakes a little."

"Word!" Ron shouted, pulling out the wad of cash in his pocket and putting five dollars of it on the table. "Had a big sale this weekend."

Harry smirked, then pulled out his lunch-money.

The rest of the class period Ron and Harry played "Hit the Nerd with Flying Spitballs." Mr. Snape noticed none of this, for he had fallen asleep with his head flat on his desk with his mouth wide open. 

First period went by normally for a Monday. The next period was transfiguration - Ron forgot all about his un-finished copied homework, as he nailed a rather large, wet spit ball in the back of Draco Malfoy's head. 


	3. Smokers and Dice

Disclaimer: I DISCLAIM EVERYTHING SO YOU CAN'T BLAME ME!!! HA!

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A/N: Thank you for all of the reviews that I got! I must admit that I did get quite a few that said Americans aren't THAT bad. I laughed at these because I am American and I know how it's like. Maybe it's just because my school is different from all you other schools out there? I don't know, but a shout out to you all who feel what I'm trying to say! Rock On!!!

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Chapter Three: Smokers and Dice

"Oh, shit," Ron muttered as he walked through the door of his next class Transfiguration. "I only did half my homework."

"You mean, copied only half of it from me," Hermione smirked, as she took her seat and pulled out her neatly done Essay assignment from her book bag. "You should have finished last period when Snape was busy drooling on his desk."

"Too busy beating Harry's ass at Spitball."

"Whatever. You still owe me from last week when I bought you lunch again," Harry muttered, taking his seat behind Hermione. "So technically, you still owe me."

"Whatever, man," Ron said, snapping his fingers nervously at his side.

"What are you so nervous about?" Hermione asked, sticking a piece of Trident into her mouth. "You never do your homework."

"What?" Ron asked, taking a seat next to Harry. "I'm nervous? Nah, it's just… been a while…"

"Oh." Hermione quirked an eyebrow, then turned back around. Harry snorted.

"I thought you just had a big sale this weekend," Harry smirked, giving Ron a side-glance look. Ron shook his head.

"All gone. Should be getting some more today though. I'm really trying to quit… really. I just need the money."

"Right. Right," Harry said, disbelieving. "Need the money for your car. Hate to break it to you, but your car is a piece of trash."

"Hey, once I buy the pieces to fix my motor, give it a gas tank, put a heating system in it, finish fixing the back seats, put the steering wheel back on, find a left door for it, and buy new break oil, it'll be the fastest thing on four wheels."

Harry laughed. "You mean three. You need another wheel remember."

Ron glowered, as he ran his hand over his shaved head. "You'll see. See if I let you ride in it when it's finished."

"I choose life, thanks."

Finally Ms. Minerva McGonagall walked through the door, and quickly made her way towards her desk in the front of the room. She looked like she normally did; nervous and slightly twitching as if she was going through withdrawal from something. Everybody knew McGonagall used to be a heavy time smoker. In the beginning years when Harry had first started school here, there had never been a day when McGonagall hadn't entered the room followed by a big cloud of smoke and the choking odor of nicotine. Dumbledore had suggested to her to try and quit just that year. McGonagall thought it insane to quit her precious, but she figured it wasn't helping setting a poor example to her students. So she bought the nicotine patches, and her right hand had begun to twitch ever since. 

"Good Morning, class," Ms. McGonagall started, trying to smile at her students. "Did you all have a -" she coughed. "-good weekend?"

A couple of nods were seen, but more "no's" and "Yeah, right's" were heard above anything else. 

"Good, good," McGonagall grinned, grabbing her right hand tightly, as she noticed it twitching by a drawer to her desk. "Well, I believe I assigned an essay over the weekend? Take that out and pass it to the front of the room. I trust you all did it." She gave a pointed stare at Ron, who stared blankly back. 

When McGonagall released him from her stare, Ron turned to his right and hissed to Draco who sat in the next isle, "Give me your homework."

Poor Draco, used to Ron bullying him from important homework assignments Ron was too lazy to do, clutched onto his neatly completed, proudly done essay with shaking hands. "But - but, Ron. You d-didn't do it?"

Ron snorted. "I thought you were doing it for me. That was the deal, wasn't it?"

Draco knew of no such deal, other then the daily routine of Ron just taking Draco's worksheets off his desk and handing it in with his, Ron's, name on it. 

"B-but if I d-don't hand this in, then I w-won't get a B. My m-mom says if I d-don't get a B then I can't g-go to b-band c-camp this year and if I don't go to b-band c-camp, then m-my f-f-father…"

"You can't even play that French horn!" Ron exclaimed, scooting his chair more closely to the quivering Draco. "Come on, Pal. I'm asking nicely this time. I know you worked hard on this assignment, and I'm sure it would amount up to that B you needed. You see, _I_ need at least a B, or else my mother won't buy me food for the week. You know about our money issues, and well… my mother's pregnant again. She doesn't believe in wasting her precious dollar on sons who refuse to work. _Please_, Draco. How would you feel to know you were the reason I starved to death?"

Draco blinked, looking at his typed, double spaced, 12 font in black ink essay. He bit his lip, letting his eyes move back and forth to the lying druggy and his proudly done assignment. 

"Or I'll just take it… and not so gently as last time…" Ron smiled sweetly.

Defeated, Draco handed over his work looking like he was trying to hold back tears. Ron snatched the paper with a chuckle, scribbled out Draco's name and put his own, then passed it up. "Thanks, Draco," Ron grinned, slapping Draco on the back. "I knew you would pull through."

Draco put his head down on his desk, and hid himself with his arms. Ron shrugged and happily snapped his fingers into his palm. "Phew. Hard work pulls off."

Harry shook his head. "I guess so," he said. 

"Looks like a fair amount of you did your assignment this time," McGonagall said, picking up the stack of essays with shaking hands. "Hermione Granger looks like she did two pages over the required, I applaud you. Harry Potter, nicely indented paragraph you handed in." McGonagall gave Harry a stern look. Harry shrugged. "Nicely done, Ms. Bones. Oh, and Ron Weasley. You actually attempted the assignment," McGonagall blinked, staring at the crossed out name at the top. "You spelled your name wrong or something?"

Ron smirked. "You know how it is!" He grinned. McGonagall shook her head. Apparently, her hands were doing a quite bit of shaking as well, for the stack of papers she was holding dropped to the floor, spreading out everywhere. "Oh, sh- darn." McGonagall seethed, as she bent down to pick up her mess. "This happens every week since Albus put me on the patch! I swear this will be the death of me." Then standing up she said louder, "Take out your books and turn to the next chapter. We have to get through the changing of plants to lawn chairs before midterms." She bent back down to finish picking up the papers.

"Oh, crap," Hermione gasped, checking her watch. "My guidance appointment is in two minutes." Her hand shot into the air. "Ms. McGonagall, may I go see Mr. Black? I have an appointment."

"Sure," McGonagall called from the floor. "Bring me your pass book."

"Why does he want to see you about college anyway?" Ron muttered, pulling dice out of his pocket. 

Hermione shrugged. "Not sure. God forbid if I actually wanted to further my education in life!"

"Yeah. Who would?" Ron muttered, making sure McGonagall was still busy picking up papers before shaking the dice and rolling them onto his table. "Your turn." He whispered to Harry. 

Harry shook his head and put his hands on his empty pockets. "You all ready cleaned me out of lunch money! I don't have any money left to bet on dice!"

Hermione sucked her teeth. "Well, at least you are intent on math," she muttered, then went to the front to McGonagall, who was on her hands and knees trying to gather the Essays she had recently dropped again, got her pass book signed, and left the room to the Guidance Office. 


	4. Black Encounter

Disclaimer: Don't own a thing! 

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A/N: I know I left it at a bad place last chapter, sorry about that. I didn't want it getting too long since the rest of my chapters were pretty short. Also, I must explain to some of my reviewers who are a little peeved that none of this is like their real school. Well, I must admit that I do exaggerate a bit on the teachers, but do you know what? The beauty of writing is that I have the license to make the teachers any way I want. I mean, please, I really doubt your own school is exactly like Hogwarts. However, I do know a teacher or two that have drank Vodka out of a water bottle during classes. So who knows? Perhaps school is exactly like this? All we can do right now is believe… 

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Thanks to all my reviewers!

Chapter Four: Black Encounter 

Hermione Granger walked as slow as she could on the way to Mr. Black's office, looking at the dull bulletin boards student congress was in charge of decorating. She wondered vaguely why she never joined Student Congress. Then she remembered she was never voted on when she ran. In the ninth grade she had braces and had big, frizzy hair. It was too late by the tenth grade after she discovered Frizz-Ease in all five easy steps, because by then she had developed a great loathing to any government dealing with school. 

Oh, don't get her wrong, school is Hermione Anne Granger's life. There was no course available that she couldn't pass as top student, and there was never a day she forgot to do an assignment, even if it was a ridiculous paper totally off the subject to what they were supposed to be studying due to a recent hangover from the Potion Master. However, Hermione didn't agree on the concept of students allowing to vote when they only choose the girl with the blondest of hair and the biggest of boobs. Hermione was a late developer, so she started her own club; Future Dominators of America (FDA). She was voted president, and her sole member was her chief of staff (Draco Malfoy). She was very happy with the progress of her club, for they had recently wrote a letter to the President of the United States on how he was running the country, and how he should watch out, for one day a Granger and a Malfoy would one day reign - have a nice day. Though the President had yet to respond, they were waiting patiently for that fateful letter, and in the mean while were outlining a new note to John Frieda, the owner of Frizz-Ease hair products, and how he should run for President next election. 

Hermione knocked on Mr. Black's door, and waited for the usual stream of interrogating questions that would penetrate the lining cracks of the metal barricade.

"Who's there?" Mr. Black's faint voice could be heard.

"It's Hermione Granger, Mr. Black," Hermione answered promptly. "You had scheduled an appointment so we could discuss my future once I graduate high school."

"Place your appointment slip into the slot." A mechanical noise could suddenly be heard, and a small tin tray penetrated from the door. Hermione dropped her yellow slip into the tray, and it immediately snapped back inside. 

"When did you receive this?" Mr. Black went on. 

"Yesterday during ninth period," Hermione said.

"Who is your ninth period teacher?" 

"Mrs. Sprout."

"Can she vouch for you?"

"She's the one that gave me the slip."

"I need a clear yes or no answer, please."

"Yes," Hermione rolled her eyes. 

An extended pause followed. Hermione guessed he was scanning the yellow piece of paper in search of any signs of forgery. It must have passed inspection, for there was a loud buzz and the door swung open.

"You may enter," Mr. Black called, however a bit unsurely.

Hermione stepped carefully in. She had been given guidance council appointments before, and knew perfectly well what you should and shouldn't do around Mr. Black. For starters, when first entering into the brightly lit room, take three steps then stop, allowing the metal door shut behind you and so Mr. Black could have a good at you as your eyes adjust to the extremely lit surroundings. 

"Ah, Hermione Granger," Mr. Black finally said warmly. "Have a seat, why don't you?"

Hermione blinked the black spots out of her eyes and sat down in the wooden chair that was chained to the floor. 

**Rule number two**: **Speak warmly and friendly as to not provoke any rash actions, and so he'll begin to trust and not hit you upside the head with the metal pole he keeps hidden behind his desk.**

"How are you doing today, Mr. Black?" Hermione asked, smiling at the black haired man. 

Sirius Black lifted his chin to look at the girl over his nose. When Hermione kept smiling, he sat back a little more comfortably into his chain and tapped his fingers together gently in front of his face.

"I'm am doing quite well. And yourself?"

"Fine."

Mr. Black nodded. "Well then, now onto the real reason you're here - _What's Hermione's favorite subject?_" He barked out of no where, pointing a long shaking finger at Hermione's face, while the other hand lurked somewhere beneath his desk. Hermione sighed.

"Arithmancy," she delivered, knowing Black will continue to shout unexpected questions about the "real" Hermione Granger throughout the interview. 

Mr. Black's eyes narrowed into slits before leaning back and tapping his fingers once more. 

"So onto colleges," he went on as if nothing unusual and bizarre happened. "In my records from past meetings it says that you wish to become a member of Congress in future years. You still wish to be, correct?"

"Yes, but now I've decided to work for the Senate. I believe once I achieved that goal, I can work on my other goal on becoming vice president then eventually presidency-"

"_What's Hermione's favorite color_?" Mr. Black yelled with an insane glint in his pale eyes, pointing again at Hermione .

"Blue," Hermione said, forcing a tight smile that hurt her face.

Blacks eyes slit once more, before resuming his normal posture. 

"So you want to work on presidency, is that correct?" He continued. "Why so? Wouldn't Ministress of Magic suffice just fine?"

"No, it wouldn't, Mr. Black," Hermione began, straightening in her chair, determination etched across her face. "The Ministress of Magic would only have limited power. I'd only have say of the Wizarding world. If I could become president -"

"_What's Hermione's middle name_?"

"Anne. If I could become president, I could introduce to the people that witches and wizards do exist and convince them to stop burning our people."

Mr. Black laughed nervously. "Ms. Granger, as hopeful as that may sound, it's all a bunch of high wishing that can only be dreams. Muggles will only see us as Satan worshiping scum that should be banned from this world. You could never convince them otherwise."

Hermione leaned forward in her seat, now sitting on the edge, looking straight into Black's eyes. "But if we used force -"

Mr. Black sprang onto the seat of his chair with angry, paranoid eyes. His pale shacking hands now clasped a long, silver metal pole. He stared down at Hermione shifting back and forth on the cushion, waiting for the student to attack. 

Hermione closed her eyes and groaned. She had forgotten briefly the third rule. **Never look Mr. Black straightly in the eye and say words such as Traitor, Murder, Deception, or Force. **Now she would have to talk her way out of this mess, without suffering from blows by the metal weapon. Hermione opened her eyes and held her hands away from her face to show the guidance councilor she was of no threat.

"Mr. Black, I only meant that if we used such tactics we could come out into the open for the first -"

"Traitor!" Mr. Black screamed, tightening his death grip on the pole. "Who are you? Whom do you work for?"

"I don't work for anyone, Mr. Black," Hermione reassured softly. 

"You're a damn lying spy!" Black screamed, spit flying from his mouth. "Who should I expect next, huh? You cannot take me away! I won't allow it! You won't send me back there - never!"

Mr. Black sprang from his chair and vaulted over his desk. Hermione let out a small screech and dove for the door. Mr. Black landed on Hermione's chair and continued to stare after the frightened traitor. Hermione was working furiously with the door knob, but Black had it locked. She gave up and turned around, her back leaning firmly against the barricade separating her from freedom. 

"Now answer me! Who do you work for?!" Sirius Black screamed again, now wheezing heavily. 

"I work for Dumbledore!" Hermione yelled. 

"Liar!"

"Seriously, Mr. Black. I don't work for anybody. I came down here to discuss my future outside of Hogwarts. I didn't mean any damage. Please, let me out. I won't come back again, I promise."

"Why should I believe you?" Sirius snarled, insanity taking over him.

"Because I'm your friend, and I would never hurt you. I would never try to send you back to prison. I'm Harry's friend, remember? Harry Potter? You'll believe him, won't you? He'll tell you I'm not dangerous. Let me out, Mr. Black, please."

Sirius blinked, not knowing whether to believe the girl or not. She sounded sincere, but Hermione knew it was no easy task for Sirius Black to just let a prisoner go. He would fight with himself until his stronger side won. All Hermione had to do was wait and hope she wouldn't be caught in the cross fire.

Sirius's left eye began to twitch, as his hands played with the metal pole. He would have to let her go. Dumbledore wouldn't believe him that Hermione was a traitor, so if he killed her he would send Sirius back to the prison. Hermione had to bring this up.

"And if you harm me, Dumbledore would send you away!" She yelled. Sirius received the final blow, and the pole at last slipped from his hands. He looked around him as if pulling himself from a daze. He seemed awfully confused as to why he was standing on a chair, and why Hermione was plastered frighteningly against the door. He looked down at the pole that laid harmlessly on the floor. His eyes widened.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he whispered, carefully getting down off the chair to stand on firm ground again. "I don't know what came over me."

He reached over his desk and pushed a small button. A familiar buzzing noise filled the air and the door finally opened. "I'll keep in mind you'd like to become the president. We'll talk later."

However, Hermione barely let the words escape his lips before she took off down the hall. She wanted to put enough space between her and psycho pole-man.

Sirius eyes darkened and narrowed as he watched Hermione sprint down the hall and turn the corner. "And when we do talk again, I'll be ready." He bent down and picked up his pole. With one last look at the empty hallway, his right hand found the button, and the door swung slowly closed. 

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out. Summer took me captive. Oh, and sorry if this chapter has a butt load of mistakes in it - this whole story does, actually - but this doesn't have a beta, and I only reread it once before posting. Hope you were entertained enough to review. I did my part, now it's your turn to push that nice little button that says review. You know you want to ….


	5. Fourth Period Violation

A/N: Can you believe it? I finally posted! I'm planning on updating a lot more often, and perhaps giving this story a plot now! Thank you all for your reviews, and please keep reviewing! 

Chapter Five: Fourth Period Violation 

         "Mya, wait up!" Harry Potter called after Hermione as he pelted out of his third period class, History of Magic. It was by far his most favorite class, as he slept the entire time in the back row. He was always so energetic and relaxed after third period, and just in time for gym. 

         "Do you think she tries to ditch us on purpose?" Ron wondered, as they jogged to catch up with their friend, who had paused and tapped her foot impatiently. 

         "Will you two hurry, already?" Hermione hissed, beginning to speed walk down the hall again. "If I'm late, I have to change in front of Ms. Hooch's window again!" 

         Harry and Ron cringed. Ms. Hooch had her office in the girl's changing room with a giant window facing the changing females. She did have a curtain, only the girls realized in horror that when the bell rang, she opened that curtain and sat behind her desk "grading papers." She never came out and admitted it, but it was commonly know that Ms. Hooch was the resident lesbian. 

         "Hey, Mia," Ron panted, as he tried to keep up with her. "What did we do in History today?"

         "Took notes," Hermione grunted. 

         "Well - ah - can I see them after school?"

         "Hell no. Last time I did that, you lost them."

         "I did not! My sister used it to pick up owl shit."

         "Ron, your owl died months ago. You locked it in your closet when you were high, and only remembered it was there when you went in that pigsty to look for your hidden stash and smelled something decaying. I lent you notes last month."

         "We got a new owl, Mya," Ron whined. "I swear."

         "Forgive me if I call you a liar."

         "You can be such a bitch sometimes, you know that Hermione?" Ron snapped, slowing to a walk. He watched as Harry and Hermione made off toward the gym, and then pulled out a blank white sheet of paper and an ink pen. 

         Hermione ran into the girls' locker room immediately following the late bell. She cursed. As she expected, every changing space was full, except for those on the right side where Ms. Hooch had her opened window. There the gym teacher sat, her head tilt slightly down with a pen held in a poised hand, but Hermione could see her eyes shift to the window every few seconds. When Hermione slouched her way to the furthest locker she could get away from Ms. Hooch (third one down, right in view of her prying eyes), she could have sworn she seen the gym teacher smile. 

         As quickly as she could, Hermione threw off her shirt and pants and scrambled into her gym clothes, all the while feeling shamefully violated. Ms. Hooch finally came out of her office when she was finished with a satisfied smile on her face. "Alright, girls, into the gym!" 

         The class shuffled their way out, and quickly scurried passed Hooch, who kept a spooky grin on her makeup-less face. Hermione shuttered as she felt the woman's eyes bearing into her lower back as she hurried away. Of all the classes of the year, gym was Hermione Granger's least favorite.

         Harry stood in his black boxers and gym socks in the boys' locker room. He was hastily pulling mounds of old gold shirts and crusty red shorts from out of his gym locker, looking for something. The rest of the boys stood around jeering at the size of their – feet – and challenging others to wrestling matches. Usually, Ron had Harry pinned to the floor by now, but when Ron didn't show up, Harry figured he would change early, and not wrestle with the other half naked school boys. There was a month's supply of dirty gym clothes at Harry's feet by the time he found what he was looking for. 

         "About time," he muttered, and pulled off the cap of his favorite cologne. He aimed it at the side of Draco Malfoy's face, who was standing in a pair of neatly pressed tighty-whities, and sprayed. Draco cursed and sputtered as the old perfume hit him square in the eye and mouth. 

         "P-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-pott-t-t-t-t-t-er!!!" he screamed in pain. 

         "What?" Harry said, smiling out at the other boys who stopped wrestling and were now snickering and laughing. 

         "I-I-I'm g-g-g-going t-t-t-to k-k-k-k…." his voice trailed off, and he desperately grabbed one of Harry's dirty shirts and wiped the burning liquid from his right eye and mouth. 

         "I'm sorry?" Harry said from over the laughter that erupted in the boys' locker room. "You're going to what?"

         Draco threw Harry's shirt back at him, but didn't say anything. He was trembling from head to toe in a raging temper, but he didn't strike like Harry hoped he would do. You see, Harry and Ron had started a game and a bet – the first one to get Draco Malfoy to charge them would get a stack of money. But if one of them tries but fails, he has to put in two more dollars into the pot. Harry frowned. He was losing too much money over this bet, but since Ron wasn't around to witness his attempt, he wouldn't bother to give up his money. Draco scrambled into a silver shirt and green shorts with duct tape covering patches, and he made off for the gym. Harry sighed and smelled the shirt Draco threw at him. 

         "I think this was just from the beginning of the month," he said, and pulled it over his head. 

         Ron strolled in just then late. "Hey, dude, want to do my History homework?" he asked, Harry. He sat and propped his feet on the bench, not moving to change. 

         "Only if you do mine," replied Harry. "If Hooch wants my eye-ring out, she can pull it out herself. I'm sick of that woman ragging on me about stupid gym procedures and shit."

         "Come on, man," Ron pleaded. "I won't be home tonight. Mom is dragging us all out on some "family outing" so I won't have time to do it."

         Harry snorted. "Your mom has you whipped and scared, doesn't she?"

         "Hell, yeah. I wasn't lying to Draco when I said she wouldn't feed me if I failed another subject. Well – it was something like that… she mentioned boot camp again."

         "Why don't you just bring your homework with you? Try doing it on time for once?"

         "Dude, I'm not going to be able to concentrate on History with my family running around. The last time we went on a family outing we had to rush Percy to the hospital because Fred and George pretended to lose control of their bowling balls, and mom had to bail dad out of jail because he trashed the manager for not giving us our free pitcher of Pepsi after our third game. Family outings rock! I don't want to screw that up with ramblings of Goblin rebellions."

         Harry snickered. "Where are you going to this time?"

         Ron shrugged. "I think I heard dad say something about catching the third Lord of the Rings movie. I haven't even seen the first two, so I hope not. Ginny's psyched though. She's in love with that pretty boy, Hump-a-leg – er – Leg-a-lick… whatever. Can you imagine my family in a movie theater? I swear dad is making us more muggle by the day. First bowling, now the movie theater… want to come?"

         Harry shrugged. "I have work, man."

         Ron raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I thought you were fired from that."

         "You should listen closer to what I say from now on, moron," said Harry. "I said my uncle was fired, not me. I work at the Sport's-n-Goods, remember?"

         "Right. Then get out of it. You won't be sorry. Fred and George are planning on bringing that laser-pointer they found. They bought a cap of a naked woman, and are planning on waving it around whenever Leg-a-lot pops on the screen and points out the obvious. They've seen all the movies, but I have no clue what they are talking about. So you gotta come."

         "I'll see what I can do." 

         The boys finally finished changing, all but Ron, and they pushed and shoved their macho selves into the gym and fooled around in their squads. Hooch marched her girls in, and Hermione took her place in the middle of her squad and buried her red face in her hands. Harry took a seat next to her and asked, "What's up?"

         "I've been violated. Ms. Hooch needs to be fired, or stop staring at the girls while they are taking off their pants! I had to change in front of that horrible window, thanks to you two. I'm dropping out of gym. I'm taking over the world."

         "Excuse me, Ms. Hooch," said Ron pitifully, approaching the butch gym teacher, coughing and sniffling. "I can't participate today." He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Doctor's orders."

         Hooch stared skeptically at the forged doctor's note, and then narrowed her eyes on the redhead. "What's wrong with you this time?" 

         "Mono." Ron coughed again. Ms. Hooch suddenly looked sympathetic. 

         "Take a seat on the bleachers, honey," she said. Ron winked at Harry and Hermione from behind Hooch. They rolled their eyes and looked envious. 

         The rest of the period went by like torture. Hermione made sure that whenever she ran, she kept her arms firmly folded across her chest, and made Harry follow closely behind her. Hooch had them playing volleyball today, and Hermione and Harry spent their time in the back complaining and making up wild stories of what they would do if they took over the world. Whenever the ball came towards them, Harry would kick it as hard as he could, successfully getting more than one ball stuck in the ceiling. 

         After the game, there was a few minutes before they were permitted into the locker rooms. Draco Malfoy came strolling over and asked Hermione if he could talk with her in private. 

         "What's the matter, Draco?" Hermione asked when Draco pulled her out of earshot from the others. "Why is your eye so red?"

         "I-I-I'm sick of y-y-y-your boyfriend!" he shouted, his eyes raging mad. "I'm s-s-sick of being their p-p-punching bag all of the t-t-time and allowing them to get away with it! I'm going to kill them one day!"

         Hermione frowned and tried to appear calm. "Draco, I'll talk to him. And Harry's not my boyfriend."

         "I don't c-c-care! For y-y-years I had to put up with their bullying, and I'm not going to stand for it anymore! I will kill them if they don't stop, and I swear to it!"

         "Stop threatening to kill my friends, Malfoy," Hermione warned. "Calm yourself down, or I'll expel you from FDA."

         _"I don't care about your stupid club anymore! I'll form my own club and I'll be the only member, and I'll get farther then you, you stupid mudblood! Now get your boyfriends away from me, or you'll all be sorry! You'll be sorry, you hear me? You'll be sorry!!!"_

          Hermione gaped at him in shock as he stormed across the gym to the boys' locker room. She had never heard Draco express himself with such rage before, and she felt extremely wary and concerned. She didn't mean to get him so upset, but she knew there was nothing she could do now. It was about time Draco started standing up for himself anyway. 

         Hermione turned to face the rest of the stunned gym class.

         "Dude," breathed Dean Thomas. "He just got through an entire paragraph without stuttering."

         "It's the end of the world," said Parvati Patil, and the class broke out in laughter. 

         Draco stormed into the locker room and violently changed back into his regular frayed clothing. He was spitting mad. He was seeing everything in red. He didn't want to be the lonely, weak, stuttering nobody any longer. He would show everyone who he was, what he could be. He will prove to everyone that he wasn't a nobody. He would show the world…

         He grabbed his book bag and slammed his way out of the locker room to get to his next class before the other boys even made it in to change. 

         _I'll show them all_… Draco muttered to himself. 

_         I'll show them. _


End file.
